


Hey Jupiter

by jenstraflintlocked



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenstraflintlocked/pseuds/jenstraflintlocked
Summary: Jenny Vastra highschool AU based off of the manga Mars. Title off the Tori Amos song
Relationships: Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't write then wrote this cos Jenny as a biker sounded fun to write

Vastra hadn’t been nervous about going to college. Whatever happened it had to beat going to the Sixth form in her old school. But she hadn’t exactly had high hopes of a fresh start. New people, in her experience, tended to be much like the old people. And a new place was just somewhere different to get lost in. The art course had been equally frustrating in its format. She’d also learnt a high contempt for her fellow students who appeared to spend most of their time trying to do things they shouldn’t do and causing unnecessary drama whilst they did it. And yet here she was returning for second year. That was more nerve-wracking. One more year, during which she had to pass exams and apply to universities and art schools.

She swung herself off the bus, her large art folder bashing against her legs. In the three years that she’d needed one, ever increasing in size, she’d never yet found a way to carry it gracefully. She’d bonded with her first girlfriend, a cellist, over bemoaning the constant leg bruises of having to carry unwieldy objects in the name of art. It was her old folder but currently empty. A new year meant new projects and new challenges. Her teacher had praised her on her still life work and had hinted this year she might like to branch out more into the realms of portraits. _Human_ subjects, she’d said, when Vastra had protested. Not cats.

Vastra scoffed in disgust even thinking about it but she’d have to do something because her teacher was right. A varied portfolio would be necessary. The trouble was, as much as she could take a life drawing class or just randomly pick one of her family, a portrait just felt too personal. Staring at someone long enough to paint them had always become deeply uncomfortable for her. She was determined the problem wouldn’t stop her, but it was weighing on her mind, having to find a subject. She pushed open the main door with a sigh and strode across the entrance hall. She was early, and that meant time for breakfast in the college canteen. They had salmon and cream cheese bagels that were to _die_ for, especially with a coffee. She reached a hand into her pocket to bring out the loose change and was counting it as she walked along, and then into, someone who was surprisingly solid. Predictably, the coins went everywhere.

“Hey.” The person in front of her stopped her from bending down pick. “You gonna apologise for walking into me?”

“Are you?” Vastra shrugged and ducked under the arm to retrieve her scattered money. Some of it had rolled quite a long way, she had to lie flat on the floor to retrieve fifty pence from beneath the vending machine. She stood up, dusted herself off and then realised she’d left her art folder behind.

“Here.” The girl she’d run into was holding it out. She looked at her properly now. The scruffy jeans matching the ruffled hair. The battered leather jacket and the bovver boots. And an aggravating grin. “My name’s Jenny. So’s you know who I am to apologise to.”

Vastra stalked over, but although she had more than a few inches on ‘Jenny’, the other girl wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

“Thank you.” Vastra said sarcastically, hooking her fingers through the handle. She felt a thumb stroke them and was about to protest but Jenny had already spun round and was disappearing into the growing crowds streaming into the entrance hall. She shook her head and went to see if food would calm her stomach down. Something, or someone, had set it roiling.

As she’d expected the first lessons back were all about applying to university. Sometimes she wondered if the teachers realised that there were other paths to follow. This was a modern world after all. She twiddled her pencil and occasionally doodled on her notepad. She should’ve left her art folder at home, if there wasn’t going to be anything worthwhile to do, but then again, she always felt a little naked without it now. It’d become her shield somewhere along the way, and, once or twice, a useful weapon. Slowly the day inched its way to lunch time, and she was looking forward to spending more of her change on a cheese, tomato and pepperoni panini, which was widely touted across the college as a pizza you could hold in one hand. Most of her fellow art students greeted the end of class with a mad rush to grab their stuff and run off site to the local fast food restaurants. She hated getting caught in the crush, so she waited a few minutes before wandering along to the canteen.

The queue was long, but it was worth it to make sure they didn’t run out. Pepperoni was always in high demand. She put her order in, the dinner ladies remembering her, then moved patiently to the side to wait as other students paid for sandwiches or put in other orders. Her spirits were rising slightly at the thought of food when she spotted someone in the queue, apparently also ordering a panini. She groaned and prayed her lunch would be ready soon, as the girl she’d run into that morning came to stand beside her in the waiting area.

“The paninis here are good huh?”

“Yes. They are.” Vastra stared fixedly at the grill where hers was.

There was a beat, filled with silent anticipation.

“Do you remember my name?”

Vastra sighed. “Jenny.”

“Hey! I’m impressed. So you gonna apologise now or what?”

Vastra was saved from answering by the call that her lunch was ready. She strode forward and counted out her change, her heart sinking as she realised she didn’t have enough.

“Yeah the prices went up since last year. Inflation.” The dinner lady tutted.

“Here!” Jenny walked up behind her and handed over fiver.

“What are you doing?”

“Paying for your lunch, what does it look like?” Jenny grinned at her. “Enjoy!” she shouted after Vastra as Vastra grabbed her panini and stalked away.

She found her usual table for two by the window and sat down fuming. The dinner lady probably would’ve told her to pay the rest tomorrow, she was a regular after all. She tried to forget the encounter and tore hungrily into her lunch. She was interrupted, of course she was, by someone sitting down at her table. She felt something fall against her leg.

“You left your folder behind. Again. That’s two thanks _and_ a sorry you owe me now.” Jenny shrugged out of her motorbike jacket and sat down.

“Can’t you sit somewhere else?”

“S’all full.” Jenny jerked her head to indicate the rest of the hall. “And I’m not the type to sit down with a group.” Jenny unwrapped her own panini and bit into it. “You an art student, yeah?”

“Among other things.” Vastra shrugged, trying to concentrate on her lunch.

“What other things? What else you doin’? Me? I’m doin’ a BTEC. Phys. Ed. The full course.”

“Fascinating.”

“I’m takin’ a dance course as an extra this year too. Figured it’d be good.”

Vastra finished off the last of her panini. She should’ve stood up, moved off. Perhaps spent the lunch hour in the practice rooms or the studio. Instead she just took a bottle of IRN BRU from her bag and sat there, sipping it as she stared at the girl sat across from her.

“Textiles and dance.” She admitted after a few minutes.

“Cool! Maybe you can teach me some stuff? I can teach you some manners in return.”

“Is that meant to sound threatening?” Vastra laughed, despite herself.

“No. But what would it cost ya?”

“My apologies. Thank you. And thank you.” Vastra said stiffly. “There.” She should’ve stood up and left then too. What a perfect way to draw a line underneath everything and never have to talk to this girl again. She stared at the girl’s jacket, to avoid making eye contact. “What do those patches mean? What does the number 46 signify?”

“S’the number of the Doctor.”

Vastra stared blankly, waiting to see if any more information would be forthcoming.”

“Valentino Rossi? He’s the greatest motorcycle racer of _all_ time. 46 is his number. He’s known as the Doctor cos he’s that skilful at it.”

“You like such sports then?”

“I race myself, don’ I!” Jenny bragged. “Started off on minibikes, moto-cross. Was competin’ in moto 3. Got to see him race an’ everything. Be in the same pit. Well not quite the same pit but just along. I was only on a satellite team, see.”

Vastra did not but she nodded anyway. “That must be hard to fit around school.”

“Yeah well. Had to quit din’ I.” Jenny shrugged.

“How so?”

“Parents kicked me out when I turned sixteen. They was the ones fundin’ it.”

“What on earth did you do to deserve that?”

“They wasn’t best pleased with me preference in company.” Jenny said meaningfully.

“A biker gang?” Vastra guessed.

“Nahh you…” Jenny burst out laughing. “They found out I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh!” Vastra shunted herself suddenly upright in her chair. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

“What about you? How did your parents react?” Jenny asked.

“To what?” Vastra was still lost in her thoughts.

“To you being an _art student_.” Jenny replied sarcastically.

“Oh! They died.”

“Bit of an over-reaction.”

Vastra snorted. “I meant in a car crash. They were fine with me being an _art student_.” She smiled at the euphemism.

“Oh!” Jenny swore. “For real you meant.”

“My entire family. They were taking a trip, my parents and my two younger sisters, the summer before I came here. A drunk driver.” She looked at Jenny, expecting to see the usual aggravating expression of pity and was surprised to see a wry grin.

“Never works out, does it. There’s your nice acceptin’ parents dead an’ my ones still alive and bein’ bastards.”

“Ha.” Suddenly she felt like crying. Pity she could be disdainful about, but she had no idea how to react to such casual acceptance of the fact. Third time lucky, this time she did rise, remembering to grab her folder on the way and strode away, having had enough of embarrassing encounters today without adding bursting into tears in the dining hall to the list.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn’t see Jenny again for another week and a half, except as a distant figure on the playing field. But she knew she’d see her again because all the enrichment classes started next week and as a dance student, she would have to go to it or risk failing. She dreaded it, hoping it wouldn’t be awkward.

It was worse, in some ways. Jenny ignored her as she walked into the studio, wearing a boxer’s vest and shorts. Vastra tried to concentrate on stretching. The teacher would take them all through a warmup but Vastra was bored.

“Okay! Before we begin, I’d like to welcome the new faces and welcome back the old. Now last year, we focussed on group pieces for the show, which worked well. This year, and particularly for my second year students, I’m interested in duets. You may all be Isadora Duncan working alone, but how do you work with someone else? Collaboration and creativity, that’s what I want to see this year. My second years, you can even choose your own theme, something that is close to you personally that isn’t related to dance and how you interpret that into a dance.”

Vastra groaned. Interpretative dance. It wasn’t that she didn’t know it was coming; they’d had a similar speech in the main dance lessons. It was time to graduate from small groups with movements choreographed by the teacher and start thinking of their _own_ movements. She could work in a group and work well. But duets were as bad as portraits. Too personal.

“Vastra!” her name being called pulled her back to the lesson and the task at hand. “Everyone else has chosen partners. There’s an odd number of second year students I’m afraid.” Which was another reason she hated pairs. “Would you like to make a three with someone?”

“I don’t have a partner either, Miss.”

It was only the prospect of failing that stopped Vastra from running out the hall at the sound of that grinning voice.

“Oh. Well, Jenny. You’re new to dance…”

“It’ll be fine, Miss!”

“If you’re sure…” The teacher wasn’t convinced.

“It’s important to be able to work with dancers with a different level of skill, isn’t it Miss? It’ll be a challenge for Vastra.”

A remark that could be taken different ways. Vastra was intrigued at the confidence Jenny exuded. But then she would have to be physically strong, at least, in order to ride motorbikes. There would be possibilities. Interesting ones. She nodded in agreement when the teacher looked at her.

“Well. Time for a warmup.”

Jenny wasn’t as flexible as Vastra, that was obvious right away. There was no way to make up for years of ballet lessons, and then last years rather rigorous dance training. But Vastra was impressed by the muscles. Jenny winked when she caught Vastra looking.

“So, Elastagirl. What d’you think we should do as a theme? What’s personal to you?” They were stood in a corner by the large windows that let in light, watching everyone else discuss ideas and begin a few movements.

Vastra sighed. That had always been the problem with her art. There wasn’t a lot that felt personal to her. She’d done what her parents had offered her and enjoyed it, but it hadn’t felt personal. She was good at what she did, but ever since her parents had died and left alone in the big three storey house, most everything had felt empty. Or too scary to make personal.

“What about you?”

“Me? I’m the amateur here.” Jenny shrugged, leaning against the window. It was beginning to rain and she swore under her breath.

“What do you like?”

“Speed. Fighting. I know how to box. That can make you light on your feet.” She threw a few mock punches at Vastra.

“This isn’t a WWF ring.” Vastra dodged them easily.

“Neither’s boxing. You have to choreograph on your feet in boxing. The fight isn’t all planned out.”

“Unfortunately, that kind of choreography won’t work to get me a passing grade for my dance course.”

“You’re the expert.” Jenny grabbed the window handle and leaned away for it. “We could always go full on Dirty Dancing?”

Vastra rolled her eyes. Why was it everyone’s first thought was that movie?

“Bet I could lift you up, for all you’re taller.”

“I expect you could.” Vastra had noticed the muscles after all.

“Try it?”

She nodded. Lifts would certainly get them marks, there could be no harm in seeing the limits of Jenny’s strength. Vastra expected Jenny to grab her round the waist and lift her, or possibly even try a fireman’s lift, not to be swept off the floor full on bridal style.

“Very good. If we want to do a wedding theme, it’ll be perfect.” Vastra scoffed, to cover her embarrassment. And her mild awe at the fact that Jenny didn’t seem to be struggling at all. She placed her hands on Jenny’s shoulders. “How still can you stand?”

Jenny didn’t shrug, just nodded, adjusting her legs slightly and tensing.

Vastra let her legs swing down from Jenny’s arms, toes brushing the floor as she brought her legs back up to straddle Jenny.

“This is certainly personal.” Jenny grinned, her hands now on Vastra’s waist. 

“Bend your legs slightly.”

Jenny nodded. “Anything else?” she grunted as Vastra moved so that she was now standing on Jenny’s thighs.

Vastra took a deep breath and pushed off slightly from Jenny’s thighs to end up doing a handstand on Jenny’s shoulders, her legs mirroring her arms.

She heard Jenny swear under her breath and grab Vastra’s arms. “Ready?”

“Show off!” Jenny hissed between her teeth. “Hurry up!”

Vastra nodded and slowly brought her legs up to do a full handstand. Her face was near Jenny’s and she could see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Now!” Vastra folded herself down, landing a little heavily.

“I see you two will be focussing on lifts for this piece.” The teacher clapped a few times.

“If you got the muscle, might as well use it.” Jenny shrugged, stretching her arms in an unsubtle flex.

“Well, I trust you to teach Jenny how to do them _safely_.”

Vastra nodded.

“S’pose we’d better get serious about it.” Jenny winced. “Sure you can’t come up with a theme?”

“Rain?”

Jenny waggled her fingers as she raised her hands above her head and brought them slowly down, then spun on the spot and angled her arms dramatically.

“Lighting.” She explained.

It was childish but a start. Vastra thought for a moment and then moved beside Jenny. If she angled her arms like that…Jenny caught on and crouched slightly.

“A better lightning bolt.”

Jenny laughed. “We should do a dance around the god of thunder.”

“Thor?”

“No. Jupiter.”

“Why Jupiter?”

“Always liked the name. Plus Sailor Jupiter.”

“Jupiter Jenny.” Vastra allowed herself a small smile and they spent the rest of the hour trying to make serious moves around lightning. Vastra found it inspiring.

“Research for us.” Jenny glowered at the sky as she pulled on her waterproofs over her leather jacket and then buckled up her helmet.

Vastra brought her art folder up and held it above their heads, as they walked out to Jenny’s bike.

“Do you ever have days when you don’t have to bring that thing in?” Jenny asked, undoing the steering lock and then pulling on her other glove before taking the bike off the main stand and swinging her leg over.

“Thursdays.”

“Thunder day.” Jenny nodded. “If the weather’s nicer I could take you for a ride.”

“On your bike?”

Jenny snorted. “Well I wasn’t thinking about the other kind.” She laughed at Vastra’s blush. “C’mon. You trusted me to hold you in that lift. Being pillion on a bike should be nothing after that. I won’t go fast. Promise.”

“I don’t have a helmet.”

“I do. Spare gloves too.”

“Do I need anything else?” Vastra felt herself already beginning to agree.

“Jeans, good boots. Warm jacket. Is that a yes?”

Vastra stepped back as Jenny started the bike, revving it slightly. It sounded powerful. She liked the bright neon green colour, the jagged letters declaring it to be a Ninja.

“It’s a yes. If the weather is nice.”

Jenny nodded, winked and flipped her visor down. Vastra watched her back the bike out from underneath the large bike area. With a tap down on the clutch and a twist of the throttle, she peeled out and sped off, holding a hand up to wave as she went out the gates.

Vastra stood there for a moment longer, under the shelter of her art folder and then realised she was going to be late for her bus and ran, trying not to slip on the slick pavements, or collide her art folder against an unwary umbrella.


End file.
